Mood:  energetic

I walk around with words in my head. Grocery lists. To do lists. Craft ideas. Blog posts. Pieces of poems. Stories.

ceiling fan
slices the sunlight
into strands

his quick annoying barks
shockwaves
no pauses in between

***

I knew something was wrong. The neighbor's grey cat hovering over my brother's form on the floor, his arms splayed like the crucifiction. My mother used to say that cats would steal a baby's breath if you let it. And she never let cats into the house. I don't remember lifting my feet to move forward, but I found myself kneeling next to him on the worn hardwood. A cry escaped from my lips, from deep in my gut. The rest was a blur.

Not all of it adds up. Not all of it builds into something bigger. Not everything is finished or final. Bits and pieces like coins fed into a machine.

Posted by mary at 4:22 PM EDT

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Mood:  caffeinated

This poem might as well be called "An Attempted Visit" because I got to the Seen Gallery right before they opened, waited almost 15 minutes, and nada. But I could see some of the art through the many windows, and it was very nice and peaceful on their patio. Yay poetry!

Visit to an Art Gallery

May 30, 2008

robot art
yellows of an artifical sun

lucky Chinese cat
paw raised
expectantly

metal twisted into bouquets
daisies that will
never falter

moth
caught in oil
and the likeness of
plum blossoms

figures long and sad,
sister, mother, but
cartoonish

miniature clothes
woven from paper
or banana leaves
or the refuse of the
rich

this art
for their eyes,
their senses,
their credit cards

one hundred feet away
with their backs to the
white brick building
people wait

the bus stop
under oak
cigarette ashed
beer scented
human stained
picturesque

Posted by mary at 7:44 PM EDT

Updated: Thu, Jun 5 2008 4:11 PM EDT

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Mood:  mischievious

It took me a few days to unwind and time away from the internet definitely helped. This prompt is from Totally Optional Prompts, about "absent friends." Well, this is about a most beloved friend and a certain kind of absence. I guess something else is stirred up when I'm not at work...

Missing Him

cavernous
immense and rumbling
with each tremble
my skin contracts
down to my toes
 
wanting
like summer
wants
the ocean

like a tongue
waits
for taste

senses heightened
so a hand
over shoulder blade
sends boulders into the river

already full
of flood water

Posted by mary at 6:58 PM EDT

Updated: Thu, Jun 5 2008 4:09 PM EDT

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Mood:  hungry

One of my coworkers that was pregnant at the same time as me, who actually had a dream about me, found out she was pregnant again. She had tried to have a baby for so long and her son was a miracle. Being pregnant again, though not the best timing, was another miracle. Unfortunately, things went south very fast and she miscarried.

When another colleague told me about it, I was floored. I made a comparison to what happend to me, but my colleague said she knew what I went through was worse. She said, too, that she used to hate it when people would compare their miscarriages to my experiences (or offer such experiences up with their condolences). She said sometimes she would just have to leave the room.  I guess, unlike many people, she saw me everyday and knew how pregnant I was (7 months) and hard it must have been. Anyway, a nice thing to say. Especially since I thought everyone was being insensitive.

 Anyway, these events and this prompt have inspired me.

Advice to the Childless Woman

time heals
with red, fleshy scars

god has a plan
written like fire on my heart
Latin or pain or mystery

I am still young
but each month
is heavy and long
like my empty arms

Posted by mary at 4:21 PM EDT

Updated: Thu, Jun 5 2008 4:15 PM EDT

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Mood:  hug me

Let me know what you think about this poem. I like how the theme is transformation too, even as I blogged about the words taking form into a poem.  I need to catch up with my supposed NaPoWriMo mission! Whatever, I just want to write more!

Transfigure

mood swinging

shadows stretching

nerves stretched long

sharp as glass

edge of pain

dull and rounded

tempered

from heat and pressure

pin prick on skin

inside of wrist

a shameful scar

a former life

Posted by mary at 11:08 PM EDT

Updated: Thu, Jun 5 2008 4:10 PM EDT

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Mood:  down

Here's just some notes, a freewrite of sorts, for a poem I'm trying to write. It doesn't have an anchor or a strong sense of itself yet. But I thought it might be interesting to see how it "transforms" into a poem in the next few days.

mood swinging

shadows stretching

long

skinny feeling

nerves sharp as glass

edge of pain

dull and round

tempered glass

pin prick of cactus

on inside of wrist

the shameful scar

of a former life

lessons learned the hard way

Posted by mary at 1:43 PM EDT

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Mood:  quizzical

The Mapmaker

He measures distance underfoot,

feeling each rise and fall, slope and retreat.

He first knew that August day,

only eleven years old,

counting the steps in his head,

attempting to escape a life

of his father’s punishment.

He knew after a thousand steps

he’d have to return.

That she could not follow.

Years later, she lay boiling with fever,

deaf to the first bellows of the coming war.

His footsteps then were inevitable.

They carried him off,

away from the battle at home.

He kept the measurements in his mind

like page numbers of his Mother’s hymnal.

“To the river 308,

Hilltop to the valley 441.”

Long after he had scribbled his notes

on oily parchment,

he could hear her voice singing

faithfully.

One day he’d follow his footprints home,

to help rebuild the broken geography.

***

I had the word mapmaker in my mind for a few days and got inspired to include a bit of Civil War history. Today, April 12th, is actually when hostilities began in South Carolina. I worry that this poem may be more suited to prose. Please let me know what you think.

Posted by mary at 10:38 PM EDT

Updated: Sat, Apr 12 2008 10:43 PM EDT

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Mood:  happy

After an April Rain

water filled gullies

mining long finished

my heart laid open

discarded the same way

the men walked miles

to find themselves in the desert

along the Platte river

flowing north then east

the coarse line of the Mosquito Range

like the pattern of their wanderings

in search of earth’s promise

their histories washed away

***

I had to do some research for this one. Inspiration was sparked by readwritepoem's random word generator. The word was discard. I did a free write for a few minutes and then my thoughts came together. I wanted to write about the rain and use the word "gully." Of course, I looked it up just to make sure it was a real word! That lead me down a whole path about mining and Colorado. I was reminded of the movie There Will Be Blood and the cold, rugged nature of the work and landscape. I hope all of that came through, or at least the piece makes some sense.  Well, I have some catching up to do for NaPoWriMo... but this is a good start!

Posted by mary at 9:49 PM EDT

Updated: Thu, Jun 5 2008 4:13 PM EDT

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Am I up for it? Wanna join me?

Luckily, spring break is right around the corner and I need the motivation to write. I might just end up sitting on my butt in front of the idiot box otherwise. Though, R and I are hoping to get away to a local destination. Maybe Savannah.

Posted by mary at 12:41 PM EDT

Updated: Tue, Mar 25 2008 1:34 PM EDT

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